


The Gentleman's Club Episode 9.725: Chuck and Drew Go To Macy's

by HandsomeManExpress (DangerousCommieSubversive)



Category: Chikara (Professional Wrestling)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Punishment, Semi-Public Sex, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/HandsomeManExpress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Look, obviously Chuck can't stay in that get-up all day, he's being unbearable and Drew's going to kill him.</p><p>So they have to get new clothes somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gentleman's Club Episode 9.725: Chuck and Drew Go To Macy's

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Gentleman's Club Episode 9.5: Chuck And Drew Go To Golden Corral](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220257) by [HandsomeManExpress (DangerousCommieSubversive)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/HandsomeManExpress). 



They do end up going back for Orange. He’s not particularly offended that they left him; in fact he seems surprised to see them at all, apparently having gotten so absorbed in his argument with the Golden Corral hostess that he’d forgotten about them bringing him there. Chuck _also_ has to dive into the bushes and retrieve his bright pink stilettos, because KFC won’t let him in without shoes and there aren’t any other shoes in Drew’s car, “because why would I have spare shoes in here? If there are shoes in my car it’s because people are wearing them.”

They _do_ manage to spend enough time at KFC to actually _eat_ something, but then Drew has to drag Chuck out when he starts making faces at children again and then almost gets in a fight with a guy who bumped into him.

“We’re getting you some normal clothes.”

“These _are_ normal clothes, people wear these.”

“Those are normal clothes for _them._ Apparently they make _you_ into a raging asshole.”

In the back seat, Orange takes a sip of his beer and says, “That’s not really different from usual.”

Chuck huffs angrily and crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. But you have to tell me I’m pretty.”

Drew sighs. “You’re _very_ pretty, Chuck, now shut up, I need to make a stop and then we're going to get you some normal clothes.”

* * *

 

Clothes aren’t really the plan, clothes are an _excuse._ Drew is so frustrated at this point that he’s sure he’s steaming at the ears, and he’d _really_ like Chuck to know it, but Chuck has almost no situational awareness, so he can’t just sit there being angry and expect the other man to notice. Which makes him more frustrated.

They go to Macy’s, because it’s close and, being a chain department store, relatively anonymous, and he steers Chuck firmly away from the Juniors department. “Pants. We’re getting you pants, and a regular shirt, and shoes that you can wear without swearing constantly.”

“I _hate_ these shoes.”

“Yeah, you’ve said so. A lot.” Drew brushes away a salesperson as they pass by the jewelry counter and hustles Chuck onto the escalator. “Which is why we’re here.”

“I have shoes at home, though.”

“And now you’ll have more. Shoes are very useful.”

“But you don’t have more in your car.”

“Shut up, Chuck.” They march through Young Men’s. T-shirt. Jeans. Underwear. Socks. “Fitting room. _Now._ ”

He follows Chuck into the fitting room stall—a handicapped stall, which would concern him if literally _anyone_ else was shopping in the section—and closes the door behind them.

Chuck doesn't seem phased until he hears the lock click. Then, though, _then_ he turns around, still holding his armload of clothes. “Drew, is something up?”

“Put those down.”

Apparently startled by Drew's tone, Chuck puts his armload down on the bench without arguing and then makes a sort of dumb squawking noise when Drew shoves him backwards and sends him stumbling back against the mirror. “Drew?”

Drew _looks_ at him. “You have been a pain in my ass _all day._ ”

Chuck musters a faintly nervous grin. “Yeah, so?”

“So make it worth my while.” He slouches back against the fitting room door. “Take off your shirt.”

Chuck catches on.

He grins.

He peels off his shirt like a stripper.

“Now the shoes.”

The horrible pink stilettos come off one at a time—it's fascinating to watch Chuck stand precariously on one high heel—and get shoved under the bench.

Drew waits, patiently, until Chuck looks like he's actually starting to get nervous again, and then says, “Now lift up your skirt. Slowly.”

A pause.

“…Chuck, how did you manage to find hot pink zebra-print underwear?”

Chuck shrugs. “It was on sale.”

“How did you know what size to get?”

“I asked the girl at the store. _Duh._ ”

It’s not just hot pink, it’s not just zebra print, it’s also lace, scanty and see-through and already straining because as much as Chuck hates to admit it, he gets a semi as soon as you start to boss him around. _And_ he likes knowing that people might walk in on him, which he won’t admit at _all,_ but generally Drew tries to pay attention. _Someone_ has to.

“So you want me to take _this_ —”

Even if it’s a handicapped stall, it’s still a fitting room, it’s still small. It takes seconds to cross the floor, shove Chuck back against the mirror, and drop to his knees.

“ _Holy—”_

Lace tastes nasty. But it’s worth it for the startled groan and the feeling of Chuck growing in his mouth. He glances up, and Chuck’s hands are white-knuckled on the hem of his skirt, his head thumping back against the mirror.

“Holy _shit,_ Drew.”

Drew only keeps it up for a moment before sitting back on his heels and spitting the taste of lace out of his mouth. “Turn around and look at yourself in the mirror.”

Chuck turns around and is pressed against the glass.

“Spread your legs wider.” Drew pushes his feet apart. “Now hold still.” And he tugs down the stupid pink lace zebra-print panties, leans forward, and licks.

Another startled noise, which morphs into an “Oh my _god,_ Drew,” which turns into cursing, and then goes from there into increasingly noisy incoherence as Drew presses forward harder and starts fucking Chuck with his tongue. Chuck reaches for himself, but Drew slaps his hand away without even slowing down, intensely satisfied by the other man’s desperate moans.

“Look at you, you fucking mess,” he says between licks. “If you’re going to _act_ like a bitch who wants to make a public spectacle, I’m going to _treat_ you like a bitch who wants to make a public spectacle.”

Chuck responds by getting even louder.

Outside the fitting room someone knocks lightly on the door, and they hear Orange say, “Uh, guys?”

Drew ignores that and makes one last, lengthy thrust. “Are you ready for me now? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, _please._ ”

Drew digs in his pocket, fumbles for a second with the package he grabbed when they stopped at the pharmacy, and then slides two fingers into Chuck—he doesn’t even bother with an initial one, Chuck’s so worked up and slick with spit that Drew might almost consider doing this with no additional prep at all. But that would be stupid. Two fingers, three, he considers a fourth one but this _really_ isn’t the time or place, and then he wipes his hand on Chuck’s skirt and undoes his own jeans. Stands up and walks the other man backwards until they reach the bench and then sits down and growls,“ _Sit.”_

Chuck sits on his lap, slides down onto his cock with a gasp.

“You always fit like you’re meant to be there. You think that’s true, Chuck? You think maybe you’re here just so I can fuck you?” Drew pulls Chuck’s head up by his hair so that he can see himself in the mirror. “Look at you, Chuck. I should show you to _everyone_ like this.”

Chuck bounces on his lap, bucks up into the hand Drew slides under his skirt and gasps, “Yeah, ok, we can do that.”

“Going to make you blow me in ring. I’m going to pin you and I’m going to fuck your mouth and let everyone watch.”

“ _Please…”_

“Maybe give Orange a turn. Maybe let Doc have you. Call Ashley Remington over, let _him_ have some fun. Get the whole roster to line up and take turns on you.”

The noise Chuck makes is mostly not words. His eyes are locked on the mirror.

More knocking. Orange is saying, plaintively, “Guys, there might be a problem.”

“We’ll be out in a minute, Orange.” Drew bites the nape of Chuck’s neck. “Chuck. Finish.”

Chuck comes noisily and squeezes around Drew’s cock, and Drew comes in _him._

After a moment Drew glances at the new clothes piled on the bench next to them and says, “I don’t think we’re going to need those boxers, I think you’re going to leave _these_ on. Now get dressed.”

* * *

 

When they emerge from the fitting room with a handful of tags for the clothes they need to pay for and Chuck’s dirty things tucked under his arm, the first thing they see is Orange, sitting on the floor across from the stall door, his beer in hand.

The second thing they see is a horrified-looking salesgirl and three security guards.

* * *

 

“Drew, you got us kicked out of ever Macy’s _ever._ ”

Drew shrugs. “Who cares, nobody ever checks things like that.”


End file.
